maximilian

for you who don’t know him, i present: maximilian vargas ! (ravamped tho so like, none of yall really know him anymore so go read xoxo)

max vargas: new year’s eve masquerade

“Well the person I was leaving to train him has gone and gotten himself a few weeks off hasn’t he?” Ofelia knew that she should have been kinder to Marco, more patient and for those that got it, that understood food she had all the time in the world but there was just something missing from her sous chef of the next few weeks. He didn’t have that thing about him that she and Max shared when it came to cooking and preparing food for people. She could teach skill all day but she couldn’t teach passion for this sort of stuff. Max on the other hand seemed to have all of the patience she lacked for that sort of thing. Turning her head she looked at Marco with a tilted gaze. “Ni siquiera podía hacer quesadillas frescas.” 

At his sarcasm she rolled her eyes once more and went back to prepping the dough that she had been making when he had pulled up so they could make their fresh burger buns ready for the special of the day tomorrow. “I mean I know I steal him from you now and this is just keeping me even busier.” She chuckled softly before a large sigh passed her lips. “Yea about that. I think I’m going to Italy so I think I might get a temp chef in from somewhere. I need to speak to Ravi about it but I’m not leaving, he who shall not be named, in control of my kitchen.” 

.

❛ At least I’ve taught him not to touch scalding pots? ❜ Max attempted with a smile. Both Ofelia and Ravi took good care of the place, enough so that Marco taking some steps in the wrong direction wouldn’t hurt Mike’s that much but it must sure take a toll on the head chef when she didn’t quite trust the person she had to leave in charge because Max couldn’t be there. He got it. Their jobs were stressful enough to have one more factor that made then nervous about the process they went through every day. 

Hearing about the quesadillas made him grimace a little but decided not to comment. He was just about to suggest trying to borrow someone from another restaurant in town, even though most were probably understaffed too, as usual in this kind of business, when she sighed and kept talking. It had his brows raise a little. There was no doubt Italy had something to do with Aless, which was weird cause his friend hadn’t mentioned it to him. It was strange hearing it from his girlfriend. Yet, it brought a smirk to his lips. ❛ Italy, huh? ❜ he teased a little. ❛ Yeah no, definitely try stealing someone from Jar n’ Fork or the hotel if you can. You’re definitely going to on that trip. ❜ Max paused, tilting his head a bit with a soft smile on his lips, at the same time faking a bit of jealousy. ❛ Él nunca me trajo a Italia, así... Que eres especial. Solo para que sepas, ❜ he spoke, shrugging a little while raising his brows at her. What was Aless planning?

Wish she would have told me.               “And what would you have said if she had told you?” Her eyebrow arched in response, all too aware that he’d be leaning heavily towards no. Cora didn’t need to vocalise the thought further. It was wreathed within her tone. “Can you pass me a napkin?” She had felt the air change as soon as he’d discovered her. Further solidifying Camila’s lack of knowledge regarding their current predicament. Though today was far less a day for them and much more for unifying each inhabitant within this home. She’d remain civil if he allowed her. A change of topic would be best.             Her expression altered at the emergence of Camila - much warmer than before. How peculiar that she felt far more at ease with the older woman than the man she had known deeply. It was an unusual reality to discover how time would twist and turn.             “I don’t know,” she responded, setting down the final cutlery set. Her eyes peering upwards beneath dark lashes. Observing him in a momentary silence. “Max, do we need help?”

.

   Her question caught him a little off guard, his shoulders giving a hint of a shrug. If his mom had asked him if she could invite Cora, what would he have said? No? Honestly, probably not. It would have meant explaining the situation to his mother because the woman truly believed they were friends. Sure, they were to some extent but, now it was way complicated.    ❛ Nothing I just... Would have been prepared, ❜ he explained, feeling the power in his voice fade a little which had him swallow hard as he handed her a napkin, small frown between his eyebrows. The the shock faltered slowly and his eyes ran down her outfit, blinking to pull his gaze back up again just as quickly. ❛ You look great. ❜ Oh my God, for once, shut up. Idiot.     Max was prepared for the women to tell him they didn’t need help. They were finished. He could walk or feed the dogs or light candles or whatever. However, Cora quickly turned the question around to him and he felt almost as stunned as when he’d walked into the kitchen. Was she for real? Okay maybe, just maybe, they should talk, but as usual, he had no clue what to say. ❛ Oh.. No. We’re fine, ma. ❜ 

     Camila almost giggled, her son raising a brow at her. “Vale. You guys finish up in here and I’ll take the dogs for a quick walk. Milian, te llamaré si tu tía viene antes de que yo regrese, mmh?” she quipped, backing out of the kitchen while sending her son and his ex a few blowkisses.  “You’re the best.”  Max shifted his weight to his other foot and nodded slowly. ❛ Alright, sure, uhm... What’s there left to do? ❜

time: 11:30 location:camila’s house status:closed for @maxvargas​

She was tucked away in the kitchen like a secret, blue eyes perusing a selection carefully chosen by Camila herself. It was a feast to rival what she was most accustomed to; all of which prompting Cora’s mouth to water. Whilst Christmas was deemed an occasion to unite family, it often felt inapplicable for the brunette. Though she still relished the elements it included: well-seasoned food, laughter founded by the triumph of party games and the art of gift giving. The latter at the focal point upon her arrival, two neatly wrapped presents resting on the coffee table for both mother and son.           Her son - the thought is unnerving and she’s frightened of the edges she might prick herself on.           She hadn’t spoke a word to him since that fateful evening; the moment now distorting what she once believed to be clarified. It triggered questions in the expanse of her skull, none of which assembling into audible words. Their friendship had been no more confusing than that of those she made within the workplace. However, now it felt complex. As if they were teetering on an edge which extended over an inky black abyss. Neither one of them desiring to discuss the matter in fear of descending first.           “Merry Christmas,” she hears him before she sees, her words slipping out between a task, slender hands arranging polished cutlery at the table. “Camila invited me. I don’t need to tell you why I chose her over my family.”

.

    Christmas day at his mom’s place was tradition and as usual when he walked inside the dogs barked at his feet, his hand instinctively moved down to pat all three, furry heads before he shrugged off his jacket and gave his mother a hug. She immediately started talking about her week, spanish flowing faster than the speed of light from her mouth but he still listened with a grin on his lips, until she mentioned she’d invited a special guest and lazily motioned to the kitchen as she fixed, or pretended to fix, a few lights in her christmas tree. A real one, standing in the living room, that Max was surprised the dogs hadn’t torn down yet. His brows furrowed a little, expression saying ‘what’ more than words ever could. Who else except his aunt and her wife was coming?     The shock on his face was obvious as he walked into the kitchen, man speechless for several seconds as his gut felt like it was eating itself up. He obviously hadn’t told his mother about kissing Cora, not even able to imagine how she’d react. ❛ Ma, ❜ he called, as if she’d let the wrong person inside her home.     “¿Qué? Se amable. No creo que me gusten las Whittakers más que a ella.”  Fuck’s sake.     Nervous hands pushed into the front pockets of his black jeans, his eyes having a hard time meeting hers. The last time he saw her he’d kissed her and she’d told him to leave and he’d apologized. Fine, he was sorry but more so confused. Skylar’s words echoed in his head. She was wrong. She had to be.     ❛ Yeah, uhm... Sorry. Merry Christmas, ❜ he said, turning back to Cora and clearing his throat, forcing a soft smile upon his lips. ❛ That’s cool. I get it. Wish she would have told me, though. ❜ Last words were turned up in volume a little so his mother would hear him too, the woman shouting back an apology from the living room that almost sounded fake before she arrived into the kitchen and slapped Max’s hand off a turrón. “Not yet, hijo.”       ❛ You guys... Need help with anything? ❜

Clearly, Skylar wasn’t the best person to be on the receiving end of this revelation – she was pondering why it seemed like he was feeling guilt over a perfectly normal thing but she hardly understood. “I had to practically threaten you into asking her out and tell you to not be such a fucking Nervous Nancy when it came to kissing her so just… mind me for a minute here.” A pro in her career, she was good at getting the nitty gritty and spinning stories in her favor but when it came to her personal life? It was an entirely different story. She wanted to try to mitigate this somehow, have him feeling better – afterall she considered him her boy. “Well I can’t imagine she’s the type of woman anyone gets over, even after what? A fucking decade? Christ, no. It’s been fifteen.” Pausing momentarily, she had to take stock of the fact she had known him that long. “The fact you’re not six feet under the ground is a testament how –… special you are. Anyway,” She wanted to quickly brush that off, get back on subject. “You are still in love with her and whatever the hell you drank bought those feelings you pushed down to the surface. And on that note, I need to know what it was so I can avoid it at all cost.”

.

A smile tugged at his lips when she reminded him of how he’d ended up with Cora in the first place. Sure, he might have anyway but Skylar literally pushed him to do something about it, meaning she’d shoved him closer to Cora until he actually acted on his feelings. This time all he’d needed was wine, no Skylar with her hands on his back or elbow in his side. ❛ When we were kids, yeah, ❜ he scoffed quietly before pressing his lips together, nodding slowly.  ❛ I mean.. Fourteen, actually, ❜ he corrected Skylar. As if it mattered. It was still a really, really long time. He’d been over her, or at least over it, but maybe sticking around each other didn’t help. Max never stopped caring about Cora, keeping up with what happened in her life, if she was okay. It had been nice, but maybe it had been a mistake. Skylar was right though. His ex wasn’t afraid to fuck someone up, but he’d never really been on the recieving end. Not even now. She’d just told him to get out. Which was fair, but he knew it could have been worse. ❛ Stop... Right there. No, ❜ he tried to shut Skylar up, his brows raising as he clenched his jaw. Now she was jumping to conclusions. All of them. At least she gave him a quick out and he jumped on the subject of wine. ❛ A red one, think it was Masseto. Really good, actually. Probably why I wasn’t exactly sober in the end.  ❜

“Oh, secret taste test for sure.” Truthfully, Chloe had just asked them to slap together the oddest drink they could, unconcerned with taste. She’d pay for it if he didn’t drink it. She was just as in the dark as he was on the contents. But, if it was great, she’d done a good deed. If it sucked, an enjoyable prank. 

Her friend being in a clearly happy and healthy relationship was wonderful. She couldn’t be happier for him. But, it didn’t mean that it wasn’t hilarious to her just how wrapped up in Ofelia he could get. There wasn’t a shadow of a doubt why they had cancelled. Ofelia had gotten dressed up, Aless didn’t even let her make it to the door. Oh well. “Oh, we most certainly do have to have the best night. Or get our story straight on what our wild night was, I feel like either one could work. Teach them a lesson in last minute cancelations.”

.

DINATALE.​

To an unassuming passerby it could have been assumed that the men were bickering at each other, but this was simply just another normal evening for the trio. Aless did eye Joel as he seemed to want to choose vodka, of which he out of satisfaction swiped the bottle away from the man before he could take a swig. “Sorry JoJo, need it for the recipe.” He said, laughing as he stepped away from the musician who was sure to throw at least a shove in the man’s direction. Ears perked up at Max calling him the endearing nickname and he couldn’t help but let out a boisterous laugh. “God when was the last time you’ve called me that? And grow a beak, Joel. That owl smashes knee caps for every lesson that isn’t learned.” He warned jokingly. With that, Aless began getting to work on making spicy rigatoni, just a spicier take on an alla vodka but it suited the mood for the evening. He had just salted the water when he called out to Joel, “Nearly scared her to death man, just call me next time.” At least for the sake of not having to bail either his girlfriend or one of his closest friends out of jail. Then he listened in, curious to know how Joel’s gigs were going as well. 

@joelderby​

- Just call me next time.       “I’m practically part of the furniture. If she’s not used to me by now then maybe she should be the one calling you. I swear,” he directs his attention towards Max, the lines of his forehead creasing. “If you ever end up finding the woman of your dreams, make sure she knows I’m glued to that fuckin’ sofa. Or, better yet, avoid them altogether. I’m already sick of seeing our Italian Stallion’s puppy eyes.” Joel supported his weight against the nearest wall as he spoke, arms crossed, observing the concoction Aless created. He didn’t address the liquor further - the air already hanging with a weight Joel knew he created. His focus shifting only when the question befell from his housemate’s lips. Thankful for the familiar language. “It’s going,” he responds, shoulders shrugging languidly. “Don’t think I’ll be the next Rory Gallagher by next week.” Music was a passion, an occupation he enjoyed, but it wasn’t an aspect of his life he clung to. The life of a lawyer was better suited - or once was. 

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    Max choked back an almost relieved sigh when Aless snatched the bottle of vodka away from Joel’s grip, for the recipe. ❛ A while. Just assumed you have someone new that’s coming up with cute petnames for you now, ❜ he mused, giving the other man a fake pout as if he was cheating on him with his boss. He was happy for him though. At least one of them seemed to manage getting a chance at holding a relationship together, while Max was just out here ruining the platonic ones he had because of a bit of wine, huh? ❛ Nu-uh, ❜ he protested, raising a finger at Joel while he took a sip of his drink. ❛ Then you’re out, for sure. Also, thanks for the if, asshole. ❜ Not that he was totally off the rails with that. Nothing in over a decade had stuck so why would it suddenly? But maybe that’s how it worked, he had no damn clue. ❛ No gigs, then? Or maybe you just don’t want us there. ❜     

It wasn’t like she wasn’t happy to see Max, he was nice to have around if only because he most often listened to her and he was actually a good cook. But more than that he cared about the food, she didn’t need to remind him why he was here or what he was doing he loved food and he understood it the same way that she did - that was a relief when there were some people who were here just because they could cook. The only frustrating thing about his presence right now was the white bandage wrapped around his hand that meant he wouldn’t be changing and joining her on shift any time soon. “Don’t say it like it’s surprising news.” Her huff followed as he questioned their fellow employees competence in the kitchen. At this point he was lucky that she hadn’t thrown anything across the kitchen at him with how many stupid mistakes he seemed to be making. 

They didn’t exactly produce gourmet food, just good tasting home cooking and he couldn’t even do that. “Creo que mi bienestar se curaría más rápido si aún estuvieras trabajando.” She didn’t mind the extra work, she was used to it and had been for a while but this time around she had people outside of work she actually wanted to see and it all felt a little more frustrating, was this what it was like to love someone else as much as she loved work? “At least one of us should see him whilst I’m in here covering for your ass, you know you could have just asked for time off right?” Not that she was in charge that was down to Ravi but still. 

.

Very well, Max understood that it was probably frustrating that he was there. Standing against a wall, he wasn’t necessarily in the way, but he was one person in the kitchen who couldn’t cook. Okay, sure, he could cook. Very well. However, not right now. He was of no help with the hand wrapped in bandages. ❛ Oh come on, he’ll get there, ❜ he chuckled softly. Usually the pessimist, or rather - the realist, Max still believed people could get better. Learn. It wasn’t that difficult really. Especially Marco. He was good, he had potential but he had some things ahead of him before he was great or even excellet. Maybe with Max gone Marco would get some extra hours in to do those things. Unless Ofelia fired his ass first. Hopefully not.

A proud, almost smug, smirk tugged at Max’s lips when his boss spoke. ❛ Probably. ❜ It was always nice to hear she liked having him there, that he did a good job, even if she was little bit moody because of the stress. ❛ Oh yeah cause I absolutely got second degree burns on purpose, Ortega, ❜ he chuckled out, words full of sarcasm as he raised his brows at her, eyes widening slightly. ❛ I’ll think about that next time though, ❜ he added with a grin. ❛ Sorry to say I’m missing the Christmas rush but I’ll be back by New Years, hopefully. ❜

DINATALE.

His first line of defense was to flip Joel off. “I’m not a whacky inflatable man, you twat.” Aless said, as he huffed away to the liquor cabinet and chose a red wine to cradle once he downed a tequila shot first. There was a bit of pause as Joel spoke about wanting to no longer have a comprehensive thought. It was his MO and he had talked with Max at length of the habit, but in this scenario the best the men could do was hope that Joel would be safe at least in their graces. “Don’t give him ideas, il mio fiore spagnolo. The fuckers already broken into my home once,” Aless downed his shot then and walked over to Max’s pantry finding some solid staples to get a decent pasta dish ready at the helm. “That shit could kill us Max, pasta? I’ll make pasta.” 

@joelderby

​“Don’t know if you realised, Maxi-moo, but my pool of friends is pretty small. Last time I tried to make one, they thought I was a mugger.” He’d put it down to the fact that he was a little rough around the edges. Not forgetting the accent. It carried syllables like something you’d hear down a dark alley. “Illy spag-who? Boys, you know I’m a- was- was a lawyer. My lack of a beak tells me I’m not fuckin’ Duolingo. You can’t shit talk about me when I’m stood right here.” Without a beat, his palm pressed firmly against his chest. Feigning an ache to the heart. His other hand would search for a half-drank liquor bottle; all of which were appealing to the man who treated alcohol as a sedative. Vodka caught his eye first - his thought process preparing to cycle out an apology to his therapist tomorrow. “Woah, Ale. Your misses told me I was welcome - right before she threatened to have an alarm installed.” He shrugged at the food suggestion; broad shoulders rising and falling between a single breath. Joel wasn’t a picky eater, per say. He’d simply grown tired of the lack of choices his own hands could create.

@maxvargas​

   ❛ Then maybe stop saying dumb shit, ❜ Max mused, firing shots back at Joel the best he could but in all honesty, they knew they couldn’t beat his insults. They were always more well thought out, as if he’d written them all down on paper beforehand and read it out loud and not straight from his mind. Half-choking on his whiskey when Aless uttered a few italian words, Max shook his head as he cleared his throat. ❛ Mmh, no, that was for me, ❜ he said, pointing a finger at Joel without looking at him. To be fair, Max and Aless did tend to swap to their parent languages around the brit just to mess with him so of course he assumed that was the case now too.  ❛ Cállate y solo cocina la pasta, papi chulo. ❜ Max tried to make his words sound as serious as possible but he figured there was a chance Joel might have at least caught on a little what he was saying so he let a wry smirk tug at the right coener of his lips. ❛ So how’s the music going, Jo? ❜

“I guess I got my alternative universes mixed up, my bad,” Skylar said with a teasing lilt to her tone, wondering how the hell Max wasn’t left handed. She tended to get the small details about people right, paid attention to that sort of thing but apparently not this one. Holding in her breath, she fidgeted her foot against the floor as she waited for him to spill whatever it was he was about to spill. She was about to nudge him on the shoulder when the revelation came out, tilting her head in mild confusion. “You kissed… Cora?” Her neighbor, one of her favorite people to hang around, and they spent the night at each other’s place on occasion. And oh, his ex-girlfriend but she had hardly done relationships so she wasn’t familiar with the innate details of what and what not to do. “Okay, and… What else is there? You’re single. She’s single.  I mean, shit, I’d kiss the shit out of her if it wasn’t for the fact I actually fucking like her.” There was a pause as she squeezed on his shoulder. “And no, not like that.”

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❛ You sure did, weirdo, ❜ he joked, shaking his head a little as he pretended to judge her. Maybe he did, a little. Skylar was usually good at remembering details but perhaps her mind was so occupied with work things at the moment. Who knew? It could do with someething else to think about, maybe. Like his problems. Except, to Skylar it didn’t really seem to be a problem based on her reaction. She almost seemed happy. Maybe Max would be too, if it had been a good idea to kiss Cora. But it hadn’t. ❛ You don’t get it, ❜ he hummed, hand reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, doing his best to collect the feelings and thoughts into one cohesive sentence. Yes they were both single but he’d wandered into deep waters where he hadn’t been in forever and he didn’t know what was hiding there. ❛ I haven’t kissed her since I was a teenager, Sky. It sent me right back, and I don’t know what it means. ❜ Sucking in a breath, he let it out in a sigh as if it would clear his mind. ❛ I was a little drunk... Obviously. But I’ve been drunk with her before and we’ve still never crossed that line after we broke up. ❜

DINATALE.​

There wasn’t much that surprised him when it came to what would spew out of Joel’s mouth, but he couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh at his dig against Max. “Just make sure to hold the balloon with the less injured hand man, you’ll be all set.” Aless said sympathetically as he pat Max’s back. But soon enough Joel’s eyes were on Aless’ and he could already feel himself folding his arms together as he was lectured about why he couldn’t leave, the man’s index finger just mere inches away from his face. It’d been a while since they’d been able to have a night just like tonight and that was partly Aless’ fault for falling off the grid for a little while, something that he thought he was done apologizing for. The clear chagrin Joel held against his girlfriend however, it was enough to let the smallest tick lock into his jaw. “I really hate when you call her that.” He muttered. “But fine, no Ofelia talk while we’re here. And I’ll behave lads, you’ve got me for the night. No early dismissals, maybe you’ll even have to drag my lanky body off a roof top if we’re lucky.” He teased. Knowing where Max usually kept his cups and liquor, he started the brigade to get at least a shot in his system. “What are we drinking?” He asked. 

@joelderby​

“Mate, if you stand on that roof top, half of King’s Head will think this house is a carwash.” Both arms ascended as he spoke, flapping left and right; mimicking that of an inflatable advertisement tube. “Whiskey, vodka, tequila. Make a concoction until I’m no longer thinking sober thoughts.” He dawdled behind, stuffing an old lighter deep into the depths of his back pocket, before canting his head to the side. His line of sight shifted from the liquor cabinet to that of Max’s wounded limb. Joel had queried very little surrounding the nature of the incident. Assuming it wouldn’t be a story that would excite the very bones of him. “How’s the old hand doing? I’m getting a bit sick of living off ham and cheese toasties.”

@maxvargas​

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   Amused snort pushed out of Max’s nose as Joel waved his arms around to make fun of Aless whom Max soon made eye contact with when the third male went through the liquor stash, probably with the goal to numb whatever he was feeling. Max wasn’t blind to his friend’s problem but he wasn’t sure what to do exactly. Joel was a grown man and he was functioning, which might be worse actually. He wouldn’t bring it up tonight though, he usually stopped himself from doing so many times just to keep the peace. So, he just poured himself a glass of whiskey. He preferred wine but in all honesty that just reminded him of Cora right now. ❛ It’s gonna take a few weeks. Why don’t you go steal food from your other friends? ❜ Max teased, although he was obviously disappointed too that making food had become such a touch task just like most things you needed both hands to do. ❛ Like Ale here, who makes a mean fuckin’ stir fry. Might have some left overs from that actually. ❜

“Aren’t you left handed though?” Skylar questioned curiously, tilting her head away from Max as it that would help her not hear what he was saying. “It’s not that I won’t tell you, it’s that it’d make zero fucking sense to someone that doesn’t watch the sport. And unfortunately…” She let out an overly dramatic sigh. Though she still wasn’t a fan of him being hurt, she had dropped the pretense… for now. She knew all too well what it was like to be haunted mentally, whether they bought it into themselves and whether it happened to them. And what happened to her wasn’t something she had dealt with at all, so she wasn’t the best judge of character. But did that stop her from thinking she was? Absolutely not. Her job involved fixing problems and putting people in the best possible light so whatever Max threw her way she figured she could deal with easily. “Max, I work in P-fuckin-R and my clients are mostly athletes. Trust me, bud. I’ve heard it all.” Eyes bulging, she leaned in and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “So, spill.”

.

    ❛ You definitely have me confused with someone else. How do you call yourself my best friend? Unacceptable, ❜ he let out a small chuckle, obviously teasing her but his expression still a little confused. He’d always been right handed. To be fair he was very little into baseball for someone who had grown up with a friend who knew everything about it. His High School and College years had been all about football. ❛ Yeah but... ❜ Her hand on his shoulder felt oddly comforting but actually saying out loud what had happened, what he’d done -- it would probably make it too real and it make it feel even more stupid. He met Skylar’s eyes for a moment, his lips pressing into a thing line while he let a breath out through flared nostrils. He finally spoke, quietly, as if he was ashamed and quite frankly, maybe he was. Why couldn’t he have just not done it? He’d managed to for almost fifteen fucking years.     ❛ I kissed Cora. ❜